REXANNA
in the haze of hell i have dreamt
that you'd lift this wing and see,
that you are my first wound —
Whether Zariah realizes it or not, Rexanna had spent most of the more recent time of her life being watched like a cat does to a mouse. And she’s well trained in keeping her emotions, her voice even, no flicker of a reaction as Zariah praises her. She wonders if Zariah, too, is an Abandoned and if so, what kind of magic the woman before her carries. She doesn’t ask, though, instead she turns the question back to her and Rexanna offers a gentle smile and small dip of her head. “Tramsutation, Fire, and Fireworks, your Grace.” She offers, but the next question she’s uncertain of how to answer. She isn’t particularly skilled, but they have always helped her when she needed it the most. “I haven’t trained much with them, I arrived here with it last Leafchange.” The information is easy to give, but as though she wishes to prove it to the Queen, she opens her hand palm up and sparks a tiny firework in her hand before it vanishes without a trace.Her sapphire gaze then slips toward the Queen, aiming to gauge a reaction yet Rexanna’s pale face makes no indication that is what she’s doing. Instead, she lets the conversation shift toward Bastien and the reason she’s here, and she listens – quietly amused at the flattery Zariah gives her. But she doesn’t agree – her head lifts in a small tilt, having not known of the statue but not mentioning it. “You’re very kind.” She offers in response to her compliment – a small dip of her head follows suit. But then Zariah speaks of what Bastien did, and she listens with a blank face. She can’t deny any of it, it sounds exactly like something Bastien would do.
But she doesn’t agree with Zariah’s idea that Bastien means nothing to her. If anything, he would be beneficial to her cause. All it would take would be Rexanna keeping him in line. And she has, time and time again. She offers Zariah a bright smile in response, a light roll of her shoulders in a shrug. “I’m not quite done with him yet.” She begins, her reasons a secret that Zariah needn’t know. “He’s a work in progress, if you will.” A light laugh accompanies the description before she folds her hands and sets them in front of her as she regards the Queen once again.
“If he is to be released, I can ensure his enlistment and training for the army and keep him in line. As for services for you, I am a bit of a seamstress myself and can offer my abilities with that in addition to his release.” Her voice is even, soft, not in the least bit hopeful (at least outwardly, internally she hopes her offering is enough) and she waits with a blank face for Zariah’s response.
and that long ago,
in some distant past, with open eyes
i kissed you till it bled.
